Pushed too Far
by rellimmes
Summary: Wildcat is a Manhattan newsgirl. She has the perfect life... or at least as much of one you can have if you're a newsie. But when Spot Conlon kidnaps her in the midst of a war between Manhattan and Brooklyn, things just got very, very ugly. Spot/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Pushed Too Far**

Wildcat is the only newsie in that's a girl in Jack's gang. She's sharp, quick, and can throw one mean punch. And she's managed to keep herself one step ahead of Spot Conlon's gang for over 3 years. But Wildcat's past has a nasty way of catching up with her. 

_FYI, in my story Jack, Sarah, David, Spot and Wildcat are all 18 years old. I own no one but Wildcat, Ink, and Hotshot. _

$N$

"So I say, 'What'd ya lookin' at, Rooky, and soon at me he's coming at me all swinging. I barely made me self out of Queens in one piece!" Mush finished, looking around at the crowd of newsies gathered around him, laughing hysterically. "Mush is always getting' into trouble," Kid murmured to Wildcat in between rolls of laughter. "He'd better watch out or Brooklyn's gonna get im' and never give im' back!" Wildcat couldn't agree more, but she wouldn't say that it front of everybody, especially Jack and Sarah, who was visiting the newsies for the day. Plus, Mush seemed alright after his incident with the Brooklyn Newsies.

You see, Wildcat was the only girl newsie in Jack's gang of boys. It was that way since the start. About 3 years ago her friend Sarah, who just happened to be Jack's girlfriend, had asked if Wildcat could join the newspaper boys. Of course, since Jack was short on men at the moment, he took just about everybody he could find, no questions asked. But after a few weeks, Wildcat found that more and more boys were coming than going and was sure that 'Cowboy' was going to kick her to the curb after a while. But not Jack Kelly. Wildcat was told by the leader himself that he didn't really mind having a girl on the team. He actually thought it was good for the younger ones since they needed to sort of mother figure and the older ones a sister.

Not that this newspaper girl was soft. Wildcat was as tough as nails, the boys found out real quick. She could sneak around and ran and jump over just about anything like a, well, cat. That was how she'd got her name. To be perfectly honest, Wildcat thought it suited her pretty well.

But wildcats bring trouble wherever they go, and this girl was no exception. Right before the Manhattan boys and the Brooklyn gang had their falling out after the strike; Wildcat had accidentally wandered into their territory and gotten into some trouble with Spot, and not necessary in the business way. Everyone knew Spot was a ladies' man and if the girl of his fancy didn't take him to her liking he'd grab em', so it didn't take Wildcat long to figure out that Spot wasn't gonna take 'no' for an answer. If it wasn't for Cowboy and Boots coming around when they did, Wildcat would've been toast. Even though this had been a while back, everyone in the employment of the newspaper in Manhattan knew that Spot hadn't gotten over it. And after the falling out Jack and Spot had a few weeks ago, no newsie had been in Brooklyn since.

But all that was about to change.

"Hey Wildcat!" Kid whispered out from behind her. "Some of us are 'a' going to da Bridge to see if we can 'a' spot some Brookes! Ya wanna come?" Wildcat considered this option. Nights were getting longer and hotter out in New York. The lodging house would be humid at night, and Wildcat never cared for that. It would be good fun to go poke fun of the Brooklyn boys. Plus it would give her something to do. _And keep an eye on the trouble-makers. _"Sure, but don't let anyone else know besides those who youse told. 'Specially Jack. You knows how he gets when we go there. So, who all's goin'?" Kid thought for a moment. "Mush, me, Boots, Crutchy, Race, Les and you now. We're meeting outside after this place clears out. See ya then." With that, he disappeared into the crowd of newsies behind Wildcat.

$N$

An hour later the three were down by the bridge, slowly and carefully making their way towards the center of it, the dividing range between Brooklyn and Manhattan. Not one of the boys from either side dared cross over, 'cause once yaws were over, you were gonna get whatever was 'a' comin' to ya. Neither teen made a sound, but they still were cautious, because Spot would still find a way to get them back for last time, even if it was ages ago.

Finally the 7 newsies were in the middle of the Bridge, looking over the water like they belonged there. It was kind of peaceful, but everyone there knew it wouldn't last forever.

Suddenly the sound of feet drew far to close for comfort, and the kids whirled around to find none other than Spot Conlon, the very person they'd hoped to see, and two other goons with him, smirks a mile wide across their faces. Wildcat jumped and hastily tucked strands of lose brown hair hanging down over her face into her cap. Even though Cowboy wasn't here, she knew that the less the Brooklyn Newsies knew there was a girl sellin' papes on the streets of Manhattan, the better off she'd be.

"Well, if it isn't the Manhattan boys, all together in a big group!" Spot catcalled out. "Is thus a family reunion?" Wildcat could feel the boys' tension all around her. She found even herself running her hand over her back pocket, checking to make sure that her old Bowie knife was still inside. There was gonna be a fight if Spot said anything else. But fortunately, Race kept his cool and took a step forward. "Nope, just enjoying 'a' nice warm night on _our side of the Brooklyn Bridge,_ but nothing your group over there," he pointed to 4 other newsies on the Brooklyn side, "Can't handle. So why don't we all just chill for a while a' enjoy it?"

Spot snorted. One of his goons stepped forward and spoke in a sort of raspy voice. "Yeah, we can all do that, but this fine 'ittle piece of architecture is called the _Brooklyn _Bridge." He held out his hand. "So ya gotten to pay the owners." Little Les stepped forward as well. "What's ur problem? Didn't mommy teach ya to share?"

This, of course, was an honest question, but the newsies in Brooklyn weren't the brightest kids on the block and thought it was an insult. Faster than those from Manhattan could d anything, the goons were upon Les like piranhas and the others at the end of the bridge were behind Spot, leering at them, daring to pick a fight. Before anyone knew what was happening, Les was being held firmly by the arms by several 'Rookies' as Mush called them. This sent Jack's gang reeling. Soon insults were flying back and forth like bullets, each soldier dodging and returning one while some got hit. Comments like "Hand 'im over!" and "Cowboy's gonna fix ya!" or "Ya lay one finger on him and ya'll be lying at the bottom of the river!" were just a few of the nicer saying, but there were sure some pretty nasty ones thrown in there as well. But this exchange did nothing but let out all of anger and hatred the two rivalries had for each other and did nothing to help poor Les, who by now was white with terror written all across his face. There was one good thing that came from it though; in the midst of the argument Boots had slipped away without not so much as a sound to go alert Jack and David. If Wildcat hadn't been standing next to him at the time, she wouldn't have noticed.

Finally enough stream was let off for one newsie, Crutchy, to get a clear head and speak. "Nay ya'll listen here!" he told Spot. "Let Les alone, he's done nothing but ask a decent question. So youse gonna let 'im free or we'll be on ya like youse were to Les!" A shout rose up from Manhattan newsies. Each kid counted the number of boys on each side; there were 7 in each group, enough for each boy to have one assailant. Race clenched his fist, giving out the silent signal to everyone there that they were gonna attack, and Wildcat feared that this wouldn't end well for the Manhattan boys. But just as they started to go at it, a holler came up at the end of the bridge. "Stop!" a voice commanded, and almost at once everyone froze in their places and turned their heads. At the end of the bridge, running as fast as his long legs could carry him was Jack Kelly, along with David and Sarah in tow, her skirts 'a' flying.

It took a minute for Jack to reach his gang, but not a single newsie from neither, Manhattan nor Brooklyn moved an inch. They all knew that an angry Jack was a violent Jack, and a violent Jack meant quite a few broken bones and black eyes in both parties. But while the leader was Manhattan and the 'Walking Mouth' stopped at the line dividing the two cities, Sarah strode right on up to the nearest boy holding onto Les. And then she slapped the newsie clear across the face with all the strength she could muster, which was quite a lot. Sarah backed up and stood behind Jack after that, knowing full well what could happen if that boy got a hold of her. But she only regretted that she didn't have time to grab Les. Jack meanwhile had turned to his gang and stood at the line separating Brooklyn and Manhattan.

"What dos ya thinks yaw's doin' here?" he demanded, not bothering to take notice of Spot Conlon behind him making faces at the others. "Are yaw's brainless? Ya could've gotten 'em killed!" He turned to Kid. "And youse crazy for lettin' em' come, or even suggesting the ideoua! Youse outta be ashamed!" Indeed, Kid hung his head in remorse. Then Jack got onto Wildcat. But instead of yelling at her like he did Kid, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "Yaw's got ya hair all in yaw's cap?" Wildcat nodded slightly, just enough for Cowboy to notice. "Good," he replied. "I can't have the kidnapping of the main chaperone on this little trip on me conscience." Jack raised his head up again, but this time it was to scold her. The girl newsie knew that Jack was just putting on a show for the Brooklynites, but that didn't stop her from cringing just a little. Boy, Jack could really give it to ya.

"And Wildcat!" Jack almost screamed. "I trusted youse! And ya gotta go and pull this off! Wildcat, I forgive ya, but that don't stop from being mad at ya, giorl." But almost immediately after that Jack realized his mistake. He had said _girl. _It was the one thing that no one was supposed to say about Wildcat. Especially in front Spot Conlon.

Spot's eyes got real large real fast. So did the other boys from Brooklyn. "A giorl is a Manhattan newsie," he kept repeating. "A giorl is a Manhattan newsie!" A wicked grin crossed his face just then. He snapped his fingers twice, and the largest boy holding onto Les pulled out a knife, one even larger than Wildcats. The goon held it at Les' throat. All throughout Jack's ranks tension arose. They couldn't do anything about Les. Not even his own brother David, who had the best way with words. It was all up to Spot now. All eyes turned to the King of Brooklyn as he cleared his throat and spoke in a voice dangerously as soft and slick as butter.

"Well, well, well. Jacky boy, I never thought you'd sink this low. Letting a girl into the newsie ranks Jack, that's bad for business. And it would be such a shame if word got out about it too. I think it would quickly deter Manhattan's reputation as the top newsboy employer as well as their leader's. Now, let me look this one in the eyes, cans I see the difference? Oh, there we go, Jack you got yourself a nice one, I'll give ya that!" Spot nodded to his captive. "But I'll make a deal. If the giorl's any good, you can have this little guy and I take her with me. Gosh, I'll even drop the whole argument we had tonight and forget youse were even in Brooklyn! But I need her as payment."

At that Race, Kid and Mush broke out in angry shouts.

"What'll you talkin' about, Conlon?" Mush shouted. "Wildcat's the best we got!" "Can even go a' couple rounds in the ring with Jack!" Kid broke in. "I'd reckon she's better you!" But Race out did both of them. He pulled Wildcat's knife out of her pocket and showed it to Spot. "Best knifeman in Manhattan," he stated simply. He handed it to Wildcat and pointed silently at the wooden beam above Spot's head. Wildcat looked at the boy as if to say, _that close? _But nevertheless, she flipped the weapon in her hand once and threw with all of her skill and practice on the table for all to admire.

Time nearly stopped. In what seemed like slow motion, the Bowie went soaring over Spot's head and landed neatly atop of it, mere inches from his face. The King of Brooklyn's face turned a deathly pale, but then returned with a smirk once he realized that e was not her intended target. "So ya gonna give hers up or watt, Jacky-boy?"

Jack shook his head. "Wildcat's one of the best fighter Isa got. We lose err, we lose most of the territory she's 'a' got under her control. So the answer's still no!" Then Jack put his foot down as to settle to matter.

But Spot wasn't done yet. He snapped again and the goon holding Les at knifepoint started to press it into Les' throat. "Too bad. And he seemed like a decent kid." Blood started to dribble down in little beads upon les' neck. bUt then a great shout rose up from Manhattan's side. "Stop!"

Wildcat stepped out from the rest of the newsies and into the space between sides. "I'll go, Conlon! Just let Les go home!" At that the goon stopped pressing and the blood flow ceased. He threw the boy into Sarah and David's waiting arms and reached out to grab Wildcat instead. But Jack intervened again. He threw himself between the two and whirled Wildcat around to face him.

"I ain't gonna let youse go and let Spot Conlon do whatever to yaws!" Jack told her. "He'll drown ya as soon as you get ova that there bridge!" he pointed towards the river.

Spot scoffed. "You are kiddin' Kelly. This giorl's gonna be useful! In more ways than one too!"

Cat shot him if-looks-could-kill-you-would-be-dead-before-you-hit-the-ground glare and faced her leader. "Jack, it's me or Les! You've got him longer than me, and he's your best friend's brother. Take im'! I can defend myself. Get everyone off this here bridge and leave the rest to me. I'll be fine."

"It's Spot that I'm worried about."

Wildcat rolled her eyes. "Don't youse worry! He'll be sleepin' with the fishes if he so much as lays a hand on me. Now get a' goin'!" With that said Cat stepped back and let the goon grab her. Jack reluctantly returned to his group and ushered them off the bridge while spot's moved back towards Brooklyn. Sarah kept on looking back at her best friend. "We'll get you out of there, Cat!" she called out behind her. "Don't worry!"

$N$

Finally Spot's gang reached their docks, where they normally spent the night. He motioned for the boy holding Wildcat to set her down on top of some crates and waved the others off so that it was only him and Wildcat within 50 feet. Spot leaned in close so that his face and hers were almost touching. This made Wildcat kind of uncomfortable, but she remained calm and defiant when he tried to look her in the eyes. Upon seeing that she wasn't going to give him any sort of satisfaction of any sort voluntarily, Spot switched tactics. He pretended to give up and leaned back, but at the last moment stole Wildcat's hat, unfurling all of her wavy brown hair hidden underneath the cap and getting it all in her face and covering her ice blue eyes. The girl tried to get it back, but Spot hastily danced out of her reach by a finger. Finally Wildcat stopped trying to get her cap and slinked over the crate she was sitting on, defeated. "If youse don't wanna respect me youse can at least respect me hat," she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for Spot to hear.

Spot stopped moving and looked at his captive, twirling her hat between his fingers. "If ya tells me what Isa need to know youse can get it back," he said simply. Wildcat looked up and brush her hair out from in front of her face. "'Right, watta youse need ta now?" Spot shrugged. "Lots, I'd reckon. Maybe stuff you ain't ever told nobody before."

Wildcat laughed. "I ain't told nobody nothin' 'bout me life before da newsies, and not all that many asked. Ya asking me to tell youse, the guy whose gonna keep me here 'gainst me own will, to tell ya me life story. That done gonna take years!"

"Then start talkin'."

Wildcat crossed her arms and stared him straight in the eye. Spot now had what he'd set out to accomplish; eye contact. But this wasn't what he'd expected. This girl's eyes were as hard as ice, beautiful, yet hard. "I won't talk," was Wildcat's final answer. This defiance sent spot off his leash. He was used to obedience from all that crossed him, he scared most o his troops and almost all of the Manhattan side newsboys. But here this girl was, a prisoner of war, showing not the slightest bit of emotion as he interrogated her. This was going to be a problem.

"Now ya listen here!" Spot said angrily, coming up close and pinning her against the back of the crate. "Youse in _my _territory now! Youse do what _I _say, _when _Isa says it! So ya gonna talk or am I gonna have ta get someone to soak ya into it?"

Wildcat's eyebrows rose up a little in questionability, but then they came back down in understanding. Then she began to chuckle. "So the King of Brooklyn doesn't even fight his own battles," she taunted. "I've always thought youse were a sad figure Conlon, but that's just pathetic. Youse scared of an actual fight?" Spot's expression turned from angry to unreadable. He stepped back and began to walk away….. But then he whirled back around and punched Wildcat in the stomach. This was the only time today Spot had felt in control of the situation, and that returning feeling felt good. But as he saw Wildcat doubled over in pain, he caught a glimpse of her eyes once again. They weren't as cold as they were before. Inside Spot could see many other things. First he saw fear, but that quickly disappeared faster than a cake in the hands of a newsie. The second thing he saw was pain, not the external kind, the other one. This was probably reminding her of something she didn't what to remember. And Spot wanted to find out.

But not tonight. Spot was feeling kind of bad about punching a girl, even if he knew she could take it. What was wrong with him?

Finally the King decided that enough was enough and was about to leave, but something else in Wildcat's eyes stopped him. She was looking at him now, staring at her captor, and Spot didn't like what he saw. Instead of the human emotions that he had seen before, he saw nothing again. Then, out of nowhere, something flashed across her face. It was rage. In that moment Spot knew what she was going to do. Why wouldn't his feet work?

He watched as the newsgirl rose to her feet and dusted herself off. She was still looking at Spot. She held out her hand. "Hat?" Wildcat asked politely. But Spot was still the King of Brooklyn. _He_ still retained power. He just didn't know for how much longer. "Come and get it," was his reply. But he regretted it almost instantly. Wildcat leapt onto the crate and surveyed Spot. Then she pounced.

$N$

If Spot didn't bring up his cane when he did Wildcat would have crushed him. He was able to repel the girl into a row of boxes. But she landed on her feet as silent as breeze before she could hit them. _Like a cat, _Spot thought to himself. But Wildcat wasn't done. She hurled herself at him yet again, this time fists flying. The first one was predictable; Spot was easily able to dodge it. But too late he realized it was only a distraction for the other one to come up almost exactly where and when he ducked. It connected with his chest almost right where he had punched Wildcat moments before. It hit Conlon with such force that it sent him flying into the same row of boxes he had tried to send the girl into. But only he couldn't land on his feet. Crashing into the crates, he lay there for what seemed like forever. All that time he watched Wildcat pick her hat off the ground and brush the dirt off of it. Tucking her dark chocolate brown hair underneath it again it give the same appearance as before, she turned and stared at the fallen ruler. And just for a moment, Spot didn't see the old Wildcat. He saw a tall, slender, beautiful creature before him, but that wasn't all he saw.

_He was on the streets of Brooklyn again. He saw a girl, about 3 years younger, a terrified look in her eyes, running down the street, newspapers clutched in her fists as she ran. Behind her he saw a boy, him actually, cat-calling and chasing after her and gaining feet faster than the girl could run. She was dressed in newsie clothes, a familiar looking hat a top her head, but with strands of chocolate brown hair streaming out. Frantically she kept glancing behind her, hoping that spot's former self would stop chasing her and give up. It was a fruitless effort, because younger Spot was catching up. Soon, just shy of the Brooklyn Bridge, the girl tripped. Newspapers flew everywhere. Younger Spot stopped right behind the girl and bent over. The poor female turned onto her back and screamed when she saw him. Younger Spot heaved her to his feet and held her tight, but just then someone tapped him on the back. Spot looked over and saw stars as Cowboy and Boots knocked him over, grabbing hold of the girl and taking off. Jack Kelly was out in front, followed closely behind by the girl, who was running even faster than Boots. _

"_What were ya thinkin' giorl?" Cowboy yelled behind her as they ran. "This is Spot Conlon's territory! Ya could've been taken, and then Sarah would've never forgiven me!" _

"_Crutchy said I could go anywhere!" was her hasty reply. "Plus I sold most of me papes!" _

_Boots rolled his eyes. "Stupid Crutchy! He failed ta mention that youse not supposed to go into Brooklyn!" _

"_Sorry!"_

"_It's fine kid, youse didn't know!" Jack called back. "Just 'member next time!" _

_Soon the newsies were back in Manhattan, where the girl looked back and saw younger Conlon get up and leave, shaking his fist at Cowboy and Boots. He yelled something too. It was incomprehensible, but it obviously scared the girl so badly she leapt up onto one of the bridges beams and refused to come back down. Like a cat, actual Spot thought. This also seemed familiar. _

_Jack was laughing at the girl's apparent distress. "C'mon down, Conlon can't hurt ya from ova here!" he called up to her, and the girl jumped back down gracefully. "Where youse learned ta does that?" Boots asked. The girl shrugged. "I know what we's gonna call ya now!" Jack exclaimed. The two other kids looked at him. "Wildcat!" _

And then Spot was jerked back a reality. The new Wildcat was still standing over him. The King remembered the incident like it was yesterday. But he'd never thought it would end like this. "Youse that girl from 3 years ago," Spot whispered weakly. Wildcat nodded.

"That'd be a 'bout 'right." Then she disappeared off into the night, darkness swallowing her up in its grasp. Spot fell back onto the smashed crates in defeat. Something had settled in his stomach, something that drove spot nuts. Wildcat was just any other girl he'd met, but she wasn't. She wasn't attracted to him at all, could beat him in a fight, and was a newsie. She was from Manhattan. She was out of bounds. So why was the King of Brooklyn attracted to someone like her? With the little strength Spot had left leaving him, he lay back in the smashed crates and blacked out.

$N$

It took the better part of the night for Wildcat to cover her tracks before getting back to the Manhattan newsie lodging house. When she was finally able to step inside familiar premises, Wildcat heard the voices of almost all the newsies coming from the dining hall, Jack being the loudest. Slipping inside the back, Wildcat saw everyone was gathered around Jack and David, listening to them talk. No, it wasn't talking; it was planning. The girl newsie decided to surprise the others by staying where she was until opportunity presented itself.

"Now, we can't have Wildcat spendin' the night over in Brooklyn, can we boys?" Jack asked the crowd. "Who knows what they'll do to 'err!" Les' voice came out from the front of the room. "Right! So we go back there right now an' storm Conlon's place!" Jack answered. "WE gonna make 'em pay for a' stealin' our newsie, right boys?" A shout arose from the paper boys. "Yeah, let's do this!" Racetrack shouted.

"Or you could just turn around and says hello!" Wildcat interrupted. She couldn't have her boys stormin' Spot's place without her in it. Jack didn't even turn around. "Hey, Wildcat, we was just making a plan on how to break Wildcat outta Conlon's dock." Then he did a double take. "Wildcat!" everyone screamed, leaping up from their chairs and giving her a giant hug. Poor Hotshot, the youngest newsie, was clinging to her waist, crying because to him Wildcat was a sort of mother figure besides Sarah and took care of him more often. Her kidnapping had been hard on this little boy, even if it was only for a few hours. When David called for everyone to settle down, they all did so, but still were making a ruckus over her return. "Alright everyone, settle down!" Sarah called from her chair beside the table Jack had been standing on to rally up everyone earlier. "You O.K. Willa?" Wildcat turned red. "I tells ya not ta call me bys me real name!" she told her friend off. Sarah shrugged. "I'm your friend, I get privileges." But she was interrupted by Snitch, another newsie, who was standing in the corner. "So how'd ya get away, Cat?" he asked. That sent everyone into a sort of nervous excitement as they all leaned in to hear Wildcat's tale. The newsgirl rolled her eyes. "None 'o' your business, Snitch." But she wasn't getting off too easily. Hotshot pulled at her overalls, begging to hear it. Even jack was listening. So Wildcat relented and told them, leaving out the part where Spot wanted to know about her old life.

When it was over, all the boys were chattering excitedly. "You soaked Conlon?" one whispered. "Because he dared to steal ya hat?" "He figured out who you are?' another muttered in disbelief. Wildcat nodded. This started another wave of questions and comments, but they were put to rest when Sarah stood up and ordered everyone to bed. Then she herself called for les and David and left for home. Wildcat said her good-byes and was about to go tuck Hotshot in bed when she saw Jack Kelly sulking in the corner. Surprised, she sent Hotshot, promising a story if he waited and went over to sit next to Jack.

"Hey Kelly, why ya long face?" she joked, punching his arm playfully. "My story beta than yours?" Jack smiled a bit and sat down on a barrel. "Nah….. Well maybe, but that ain't it." "So watt's ya problem then?" Jack hung his head. "If I hadn't said anything about youse being a girl you'd still be here and safe-""And Les would be in the morgue!" argued Wildcat. "You did the right thing, lettin' me go off easier than if the others would've done it. Plus, I got payback for last time!" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Ya still were holding onto that grudge? Here I thought youse were easy-going!" Wildcat shrugged. "That's me cover for sellin' papes. So stop worrying about da past and get some rest. We gots a long day ahead of us tomorrow, with no sleep like we got." "But we done it before," Jack pointed out. "We were up and at em' in the morning right on schedule!" Wildcat glared at the leader. "The kids were out snoozing on the sidewalk as soon as they gots their papes sold," was her reply. "I ain't runnin' a late nighters' again, ya hear? Now get ta bed an' go to sleep!" Jack grumbled about how bossy girls were but nevertheless followed her up. "You like a sister to us, you knows that right Cat?" he asked her on their way up the stairs. "And a mother to Hotshot and all the other little guys." Cat chuckled as she turned into the walk-in closet that served as the younger ones bedroom in the boarding house. "Well, they don't got anyone else besides Sarah, and she's only 'round here every two days."

"Yeah, I guess." Jack was about to go into the older boys room, but stopped sort outside it and looked at his partner, who had disappeared inside the boy's room to tell them a story. "Yep, you a mother to them alright," he muttered under his breath so no one could hear. "You tell 'em stories and protect em' from anything that comes their way." He paused for a moment, thinking. "But you sure can scare the living daylight outta them too. And anyone else for that matter." With that, he got into bed and fell asleep.

$N$

The next day was harder for Spot Conlon than usual. First thing he had to do was explain to his crew why he was sitting in a pile of smashed in boxes while his attacker/captive was missing. Spot could tell they were disappointed in him for letting their hostage get away, but that was the least of Spot's worries. His only concern was selling his papers and fast so he could get down to Manhattan and find Wildcat. But unfortunately, this wasn't gonna be the case today. Spot had more bruises, splinters from crashing into the crates and broken fingers than any Brooklynites had gotten in a week. His second-in-command, Ink, told him to go see a doctor and forget about sellin' today. He even sent a guard to make sure he didn't do something rash, which was routine for Spot. Getting to the Doctor and getting fixed up took up a good deal of time, so by the time Spot got down to Manhattan, sellin' papes was already over. The streets were empty of newsies, but spot knew enough about them to now where they'd done.

The only place that they could be was either the theatre or the lodging house. But since Metta was out of town that week, Spot tried option two. His efforts paid off. Spot walked into the house and was greeted by the racket of 3 small boys bouncing around the place. But they stopped short once they saw Conlon. Immediately they screamed at the top of their lungs for Jack and Race to get down there and took off upstairs hollering for their mother. Soon Jack and Race were downstairs and glaring at Spot.

"You gotta lot of nerve comin' down here, Spot!" Race started. "Yeah, and without ya goons with ya youse seem pretty helpless!" Jack commented. He started to circle around Spot, checking out his bruises and counting broken bones. He laughed. "Well, so the rumors were true. Wildcat _did _soak ya as well as she said!" Race snorted with laughter as well. Under normal circumstances, Spot would've decked them both head on, but this was different. "I didn't know youse Manhattan boys gotta mother here," he said. "Can't run the place by youse self Jacky-boy?" Jack didn't take offence like Spot thought, but Race did instead. "We were doing just fine! At least until you decided to grace us with ya _presence!" _He emphasized the last word. Jack held up his hand and nodded at Race sternly, at which point Race turned tail and ran upstairs. Then he turned back to Spot. "You came here for something?" he asked innocently.

Spot leaned up against the wall. "Youse never answered me first question. Who's ta mother? Sarah?" Jack shook his head. "Wildcat-""Ya means she's gotta family?" Spot yelled in alarm. He had kidnapped a mother of But Jack shook his head again. "Well, yes an' no. We is her family, us Manhattan newsies. And Sarah's certainly familiar with everyone, but she's here only twice a week. The little guys took to Cat and ever since she's been playin' mother to em', making sure they're alright after sellin' papes and tellin' em' stories at night. To the older ones she's like a sister. WE all tell her she'd make a good housewife, but every times we do we end up with a black eye. She says she likes it as a newsie, and is only doing it until they're grown. But I haven't told her we get a new set of younger ones every few years." He chuckled at the look on Spot's face. "I'm kidding! You gotta lighten up there, King 'o' Brooklyn, but I guess bein' beatin' by a giorl knocked some sense into ya. Now, I answered youse question, so ya answer mine before we kick ya all the way to New Jersey."

Spot took a deep breath. "I'm here to see Wildcat."

This sent jack into hysterics. "You WHAT!" he shouted, making the floor around him shake. Several of the younger ones, seven in all, including the three of whom had alerted the house to spot's presence in the first place, peered down the stairs. Footsteps sent them scurrying back up again, but it was too late. Wildcat had already heard Jack's shout. "Jack! You alright down there?" she hollered down the stairs, and Spot half expected her to appear at the top of them. But she didn't appear just yet. Instead, Spot heard Race pleading with her, begging her not to go down there.

"It's a surprise!" he lied, blocking her path. "We gotta a surprise for ya an' ya can't see it just yet!" But Wildcat saw right through him. "Youse always say that when you don't wanna gets in trouble. Did ya break the railin' again?" She pushed the boy aside and started down the stairs, but stopped short at the sight of Spot at the bottom. Race laughed nervously. "Surprise?"

"What-are-you-dong-here?" she whispered quietly, yet there was a dangerous toner in her voice. Spot opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him a chance to respond.

"WHO LET HIM IN?" she seethed, whirling around to face her adopted children. They seemed on the verge of tears. They obviously didn't want her to get at them. "He let himself in, Momma," one of them said quietly. This cooled off Wildcat's rage towards her 'children' but only increased for her hatred towards spot. She pointed to an unseen room upstairs. "Go. Now. I'll be up in a few." She turned to race. "Make sure they stay there." Race nodded in obedience and hurled himself up there faster than a locomotive. He obviously feared her wrath.

Once she made sure everyone was in their rooms, Cat whirled around and faced Spot, her bowie knife in hand once again. _She must've retrieved it from the bridge on her way back from the docks_, Spot thought. But before she could throw it, Jack stepped in front of her target. "Cat, he ain't here ta hurt ya!"

"Says who?"

"Says me!" Spot said loudly. Cat put her knife away, but still held her ground. "What do youse want?" she asked coldly.

Spot took another deep breath. "Isa here to say sorry."

$N$

**So, did everyone like the first part? I just watched the movie in class and couldn't wait to write it! If ya'll could R&R that would be amazing! I need reviewers! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I've gotten two chapters up in two weeks, that's pretty impressive for me! Don't panic others readers who like my other stories, I am still working on those too, but with trying to keep up with Fiction press too, I'm stuck. My name is still rellimes if you want to check there for my stories there too. So here it goes!**

$N$

Wildcat clenched her teeth. Spot Conlon, here to _apologize to her? _Not possible! He was the "King of Brooklyn" for crying out loud! He wasn't supposed to apologize to others, he accepted them!

The girl newsie raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "And to whom do Isa have the pleasure of thanking for making you, hmm? Jack perhaps?" Jack laughed. "Thank you for your undying faith in me Cat, but Spot came here on his own. I still don't know what's eatin' im' though. He's been jittery since he's gotten ere'."

Wildcat was taken aback. Spot had come here on his own? What crazy world did she wake up in this morning anyways? She crossed her arms and straightened out her back, looking dignified. Or at least was much possible when you're the 'mother' of seven orphans. "Alright, what makes ya so sure Isa ready ta forgive ya, Conlon?" she asked. Spot shrugged. "Maybe because Isa not here with me other boys, ready to take ya back to Brooklyn?" he responded. Jack snorted. "Ya don't got no others with ya 'cause you don't want to see them appologizin' to a giorl!" Spot glared at his enemy. "Youse lucky I don't bash ya in right now, Kelly!" he threatened, gripping his cane. But Wildcat bounded up and slid in between the two before they could do anything rash.

"Listen, both of ya!" she demanded. "I don't want no apology from youse, Conlon, because kings don't do that sorta thing. Itsa sign of weakness and youse know it. Jack, I don't care if you run this joint, but here Isa in charge here and there'll be no fightin' around here." Wildcat nodded upstairs. "Especially in front of da younger's. So both of ya get back to wherever ya came from, in Conlon's case Brooklyn and Jack's wherever he goes durin' da day and get a life!" And to prove her point, the newsie threw open the lodging house door and shoved them both out, then slammed it shut and bolted it. A minute later a rap came from it and she opened it once again to reveal Cowboy. "I stay here durin' da day," he grinned sheepishly. Wildcat smiled in amusement, let the embarrassed newsboy inside and peered out again. No Conlon. Good. She slammed it shut again and faced Jack, who was leaning on the railing.

"Youse gonna break it just like Race, Cowboy!" Cat wagged her finger at him while turning into the kitchen, where the younger newsies and Race and sneaked down to listen to her ranting. She shooed them out and sat down at the long table, twirling her Bowie knife absentmindedly. Jack jumped up on the stool next to her. "Don't you have papes to deliver or a certain Sarah Jacobs to see?" she asked. But Jack shook his head. "Sarah's sick and I gots Boots doing double shift today for me. Me an' Race ain't leavin' ya alone until all this blows over." He thought for a second; "And the younger newsboys, because I caught some 'o' them this mornin' plottin' to get Spot back for what he did to ya." Wildcat looked at him, confused. "You mean tryin' ta beat me into a pulp? Because he do that ta everyone and ya don't sees them goin' out there for everybody that gets soaked by the 'King of Brooklyn'. Plus I soaked im' first, am I right?"

"Youse mean he didn't try ta-""Nope," Cat interrupted. "But I shudder to think of what he does to the other ones from Queens, though."

It was a pretty well-known fact that there were more girl newsies in Queens than Manhattan. Actually, they were the only other paper that allowed girls to be newsies. Wildcat had always wondered what it would've been like to sell in Queens, but she wouldn't leave the Manhattan boys, not now. She just thought that the girls who sold in Queens were lucky, that's all. Not that she resented them. In fact, she had made a few friends whenever she was over in that area, visiting as a 'peaceful ambassador' as Jack called her. Anyways, the girls would always sneak into Brooklyn and try to catch a glimpse of Spot, and then have him chase after them and fail. It was a game of sorts for them. But it always ended up the same. She had even seen it. Conlon would catch up with them and do one of two things; soak them good or drag them off. That was the main reason Wildcat never brought Sarah selling with her, because Wildcat's favorite corner to sell papes was right near the Bridge. Jack would've never forgiven her if Sarah got nabbed on Cat's watch.

Jack interrupted Cat's thoughts. "Why ya thinks that Spot decided to come over an' apologize, ya think?" he asked, looking thoughtful. Wildcat shrugged. "Ya guess is as good as mine. Maybe he felt guilty?" Cowboy looked at her in disbelief. "This is _Spot Conlon _we're talkin' about, Cat. He's ta 'King of Brooklyn'! Willa, he don't apologize 'cause he feels guilty, he apologizes 'cause he 's in love!"

Wildcat looked shunned. Then she slapped Jack across the face. "First, never say my real name again, ya hear? I don't like it! Second, he don't even like me, much less love, so don't go getting' into all 'o' that. I soaked him so that he could even barely walk, for cryin' out loud!" "He likes you because he's finally met his match! That's what's so special about youse, Wildcat! Do youse know how many of my boys like Race wouldn't think twice about askin' ya out? Because ya a girl who can relate ta em'!" Cat rolled her eyes. "Sarah ain't like youse, Jack. She's ya exact opposite!"

Jack nodded his head. "Well, opposites can attract too, ya know." Wildcat punched him on the arm playfully. "Hypocrite," she said. Jack grinned and shoved her back. "So can youse see where I'm a' going with this?' he continued, leaping up and looking her square in the eye much like Cat did when she'd caught one of the younger's in a lie. "Yeah, Isa guess. So I'll have to accept it, huh?" Jack smiled at his co-worker. "Yup!" he exclaimed happily. "And there ain't nothin' ya can do about it!" Cat crossed her arms. "So can Isa go an' sell me papes tomorrow, since you seem to have this all worked out an' everything?"Jack shook his head for the umpteenth time that day. "No, of course ya can't! Don't ya know that just 'cause Spot likes ya don't mean the others do too?" he nearly yelled. But Wildcat glared at him. She needed this job, and she couldn't have Jack keeping her home like a common housewife. She didn't like it, no matter how much she enjoyed her babysitting the younger's. She needed space and a little danger, which was just the way she was. Finally Jack relented on the account of worrying that he would be murdered by her glare. "Fine, but Isa sendin' Race with ya!"

But he was too late. For as soon as she had heard the word _Fine _Wildcat rushed out of the room, whooping like a child that had just been let out of the Refuge, which for her, was what captivity in the lodging house was like. Jack had to smile at that, and followed suit after her. But then he heard her shout back at him, "Why is it always Race?"

$N$

Spot trudged down the pier, dreading what the others would say when they saw that their leader had been to Manhattan all afternoon. One could always tell that one had been to Manhattan because they always came back talking like a traditional New Yorker. And now everyone would now. But maybe they would think he went over there to just to show he could do it. Well, he would find out. No, they wouldn't have to know. Normally after a day you lose the accent, so all he had to do was not talk and he'd be in the clear. At least until he went back.

As he approached the docks, Ink came out to meet him. "Hey Spot, where ya been?" he called out. Spot shrugged, not even opening his mouth. "Around, I take it!" Ink said for him, meeting him halfway and walking back with him. "Hey, some 'o' us were a' thinkin' 'bout running over ta Manhattan late tonight an' getting' that giorl, what-her-name, uh, Wildcat, yeah Wildcat back. If I heard ya correctly, youse didn't get ta finish ya _interrogation _last night."

Spot stopped short and ran out in front of Ink, holding his hands out in front of him and shaking his hand. Ink looked confused. "No? But why, youse always like a good 'venture!" Then he paused for a moment. "And why ain't you talking?" Spot's blood ran cold. He had found out. But the king of Brooklyn wasn't beat yet. He opened his mouth and pointed inside like he had a sore throat. Ink peered inside and laughed. "I can see da redness. Carry on, we's gonna wait until youse better ta make final judgment then." Spot made a thumbs-up and ran on ahead. _Idiot, _Spot thought to himself. _People's throat's always red! Its da white ya look out for!" _

Once at the edge of the docks, where the mettle beams were placed and spot normally slept on a good night, Conlon sat down and began to think, which was pretty uncommon for him. Everyone knew Spot acted first and waited for an explanation later, but today was different. _He _was different. The previous evening he had finally met his match, let her run away, and went back to apologize for trying to soak her the next day. _That _wasn't the King of Brooklyn he knew and trusted. He was a whole new person. And he didn't like it. The old Spot would've gotten up, no matter how painful it was, and chased after her until the world ended. This new guy let her off scot clean without as much as a word against her. That wasn't normal, not just for Spot, but for Brooklynites in general.

He couldn't understand himself. Why had he not gone after her, 3 years ago and now? Maybe, just maybe, he'd wanted her to run. He'd regretted taking her with him as soon as he saw the look in her eyes after he's hit her the last night, and again and again later on. Why? The more Spot found himself asking this question, the more anxious he became to find his answer. Man, this was going to bug him good. After about 15 minutes of sitting there and coming up with nothing, Spot took another look around at his surroundings. It was probably almost 10 o'clock. He hadn't noticed. Climbing up into his loft, he lay back and thought some more about his problem and the problem's problem. Then he got an idea. He would go back into Manhattan tomorrow after he sold the papes and find Wildcat. Maybe she would shed some light on the subject.

But then his nagger came back to bite him. _What are youse thinkin'? She don't wanna sees you!_ It screamed. _Shut up! _He told it.

$N$

Spot got up nice and early to start selling early to get over to Wildcat's corner early. He had always known she was there, but that was before he knew she was a girl. Jack might've placed her someplace else or had her sell with a partner. If he had gone with option B, Spot knew he would've chosen his left-hand man Racetrack. And losing Racetrack was hard when he don't wanna be lost. Fortunately for Spot, though, Race wasn't there, only Cat. She was out of papers and was sitting down on the bench she normally stood on the get buyers. He came up behind her and spoke. "I gotta a problem."

$N$

Wildcat nearly jumped when she heard Spot's voice behind her. She twirled around so fast she almost fell off the bench, and she did, and recovered by landing on her feet like the other night, knife in hand _yet _again. "Watta youse doing here again, Conlon?" she demanded, Bowie poised to kill instead of hurt. Spot held up his hands in defense. "Like Isa said, I gots a problem." "We'll start talkin'," Wildcat said. "Because I just set Race back for more papes an' he won't be gone forever!" Spot smirked. "Boss assigned ya a protection detail, how nice!" he taunted. Wildcat tightened her grip on her knife. "If ya want me ta fix ya problem, you better keep them smart- ales comments to yourself," she warned checking over her shoulder to see if Race was back yet. Spot sat down on the bench next to her and looked glum. "I am a mess," he stated. "Ain't _that _the truth," Wildcat murmured to herself. Spot turned and gave her a mean look. She threw up her hands. "Alright, alright, I ain't gonna say nothin' else!"

"It's just, the first time Isa met ya, it was like everything else, take da fact that Cowboy went an' rescued yaws and gave me a good soakin'. But I was still welcome in Manhattan somewat, so I could've gone after youse-""But ya didn't!" Wildcat interrupted. She wasn't really sure where this was going, but this conversation had better end quickly, because Race should've been back by now. But then again, if he wasn't back now, he must've stopped by the wrestling match on the way back to the newspaper factory, so he could be a while. "Right, Isa didn't! That's me problem!" Spot continued. "I didn't follow youse last time and Isa didn't follow youse two nights ago either!" He hopped up from the bench and started to pace in front of her. "I _should've _done it, but I _didn't! _It's watt I normally done, but now I won't even go out to do the normal stuff Isa likes ta do an' visit Manhattan instead to find youse and talk to ya. I haven't sold me papes after da incident 'cept dis morning an' even then Isa only bought 10! So dis bothers me even though it shouldn't an' I go down here ta find youse even though I knows you don't wanna see me and… and…-" Spot frantically grabbed Wildcat's shoulders in a desperate attempt to stop himself from getting even more shaken up and started to shake her. "I needs help!"

Wildcat was shocked. It was bad enough that _the _Spot Conlon was admitting that he was in trouble, that wasn't good, but what was even worse was that she couldn't even help him! Gently removing Spot trembling arms from her shoulders, she stood up and helped him back onto the bench. Then she was the one to place her arms on his shoulders. "Now youse listen ta me, Conlon. I can't help you, given the state of mind youse in, but Isa can help ya understand why ya freakin' out like ya just did, ya hear me?" Spot staring up at her with scared eyes. That was odd. "Y-E-S," he said slowly.

"Good," Wildcat continued. "This means that ya finally growing up, Spot! All youse known ya whole life was take what ya need an' get out of it if youse get caught, right? Well, for a while youse don't get caught, so life gets easy. You start to enjoy it. But 3 years ago, with me, the balance started to tip." She took one hand and flattened it out and started to rock it back and forth to illustrate a point. "You gets ova that an' starts to get back into routine again, but then I turns up later and everything's goes south again, don't it?" Spot nodded semi-consciously, so Wildcat turned around and sat on the bench again, this time checking for Race. Once she realized he wasn't there, she turned back to Spot, who was also glancing at her direction. She stretched out her legs a bit and started to talk again. "Since me comin' back up 'causing a lot of problems for ya, I think itsa best for me to go now."

And with that said, the newspaper girl stood up and walked away, not saying a word.

$N$

"Wait!" Spot yelled out. "Where youse goin'?" Wildcat looked over her shoulder and frowned. "My turnin' up in youse life's bringin' up lots of things you don't need its best if you stay in Brooklyn from now on. I'll switch corners; you don't come into Manhattan, everyone's happy!" Wildcat then broke out into a run, and by the time Spot could get to where she was she was gone, disappeared into the crowds. Spot searched around for a minute; then he saw his person of interest. Bad news was, she was with Race now, pointing at where spot was now. Even more bad news? Race was coming his way. Spot turned tail and ran back to Brooklyn. But all that time, he was thinking, _ya ain't gonna get away that easily, Cat!" _

$N$

For about an hour, Race and Cat scanned their corner for any sign of Conlon. Wildcat knew where he'd gone; Race refused to believe it. Finally she was able to convince him to go back for more papers, but as they were heading back, Race confessed he had been watching a match instead of the clock (like she'd thought) and by the time they would get back to the stands they would've already been shut down. Cat was furious with him for leaving her that long, and refused to speak to him the rest of the day. That didn't work. They reached the lodging house with Racetrack on both knees, begging to be forgiven and Cat, tired of being nagged, gave in. "But youse gonna stay with the older boys tonight like normal!' she warned. "No you and Crutchy listenin' though the younger's keyhole to me stories, Ya'll too old for that anyways!" Race blushed at his being caught and followed her into the building.

Sarah was already there, back from her 24 hour illness and helping David gather everyone together for the meal. Jack was there too, helping, but at the sight of Wildcat he and Sarah bounded over and left David to tend to the newsies by himself. "Hey, look whose back!" Sarah grinned. "Where ya been all day?" Cat elbowed Race. "Sorry! We would've been back earlier, but _someone _left me to go watch the wrestin' match!" Jack slapped Race across the back of the head. "Youse left her there, by herself, so you could sneak off to go do whatever while Cat was about a block away from _Brooklyn! _Race, ya fired! I'm goin' with her this time around to sell. You goes back to ya old street!" Race hung his head for the second time today. "First Cat gets onto me 'bout that, then you. Who's next, David? Isa said Isa was sorry!" Jack looked at his face and relented. "Alright, but still, Conlon could've shown up-""He _did _show up," Wildcat murmured. Jack whirled around to face her, a look between shock and rage in his eyes. "What?" he shouted, so loudly that it got ever boy in the kitchen's attention. He waved them off, but once his back was turned the look in his eyes was back. Cowboy started to pace furiously in front of them. "Who does he think he is?" Jack exclaimed angrily. "He has _no _right ta just go ova into Manhattan when I specifically told im' not ta an' see youse! That's it! I'm goin' ova ta Brooklyn me self!" Jack was about to storm off towards the door, but Sarah held him back. "Jack, Cat's got to say something to you," she said calmly. Jack hadn't apparently filled her in on the recent events yet. But nevertheless Jack stopped and looked at Wildcat. "What?" he asked sort of rudely. He hadn't completely gotten the look off his face.

"I took care of Conlon, Cowboy," Wildcat told him. "He's in a pretty bad emotional state, and he don't even know why. _That's _why he came to this afternoon. He thought I could fix em', since most of them seem to revolve around me." Jack lost his look and gained another one real fast, one of confusion this time. "So what did ya say?" he asked her slowly. "'Said that it was better he not come ova ta Manhattan anymore an' I switch places with Race so that when he's on the bridge he don't see me either," Wildcat answered proudly. Personally, she thought her plan was a good one. Spot didn't know his way around Central Park, where Race normally sold besides the matches. He barely even knew his way to the newsie lodging house!

Jack considered this idea for a moment. Before he could answer though, Sarah cut in. "I think it's a good idea! That way Wildcat's not anywhere near Brooklyn or Spot and Race can keep an eye on the Bridge. The first thing Conlon or his gang is going to do if they come over here is find Cat, which wouldn't be difficult if she was a mere block away! But they don't know the way to anywhere but here and the presses, so even if they knew she was in Central Park they wouldn't be able to get to her before Race came back reported, and we sent someone to go find her first."

Cowboy considered this for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "Isa sees ya point. We'll switch Wildcat and Race for today, and if it works out, we'll keep it like that and if it don't we can always revert back ta the original idea.

Race grinned and Wildcat muttered _yes! _Under her breath. Maybe this could work.

$N$

"Cat, cat, tell us a story!" Les, Hotshot and the other younger's pleaded with her, pulling their den 'mother' up the stairs. Well, trying to at least. Wildcat had mastered the ability to stand her ground long ago and run when necessary, and tonight no different than the rest. But all the boys wanted were a story, so Wildcat reluctantly followed them up the stairs and into their room. She sat down on Snitch's bed while he and the rest piled onto the floor.

"OK so what kind of story would youse like tonight? Can I continue the one about the Indian chief? Or maybe-""Tell us a real story Wildcat!" Les shouted. "Yeah, tell us yours!" a voice came from the closet. A round of_ shshsh's_ followed immediately after, but Wildcat could still hear who was talking. She walked over to the door and yanked it open, sending Boots, Race, and Crutchy tumbling out. Boots bonked Crutchy on the head and stood up, red faced. "Isa told ya ta keep youse mouth shut!" he scolded them, then turned and gave a hastily grin at Cat. "We was just leavin'!" He grabbed the two other newsies and dragged them out of the room. Cat rolled her eyes and returned to her seat. "Ok, here the story goes," she said. After that she began to weave her tale, _her own tale, _her own story, filling in a gap here and a detail there with something so extravagant that she hoped it would wash away the memory of what had happened last. She didn't need anyone blabbing her life's story out to anyone, which was for sure!

Unknown to her, another someone was listening outside the window, someone who understood every word.

$N$

Spot shifted uncomfortably in his tight position outside the younger's window. After returning to Brooklyn, he had told his gang not to wait up for him since he was going to be out all night. Then he returned to the Bridge, when he was sure Race and Wildcat weren't still there and made his way to the newsie lodgings. He had gotten there just in time to hear Cat start her story, which was what he had wanted her to do when she was the captive. Now he could without harm coming to him, at least for now. But if he didn't want to get caught, he had to stay just below the window, which was pretty uncomfortable.

"_Once upon a time, there was a little giorl, not much younger than youse are now, who lived on the streets." Wildcat began. "Her mother was dead; her father drove her out and shot himself in the head. She had been taken ta distant relatives, but they didn't want her. She lived in the orphanage for some time, but she hated it there and escaped, and no she had no home, no money and no food. This little giorl was in short poor, but she didn't care. She loved her life on the open roads of New York, stealin' what she could without so much as a trace and bringing it back to the abandoned building she had made her home in. That was how she became as quiet as a mouse, because she had practiced sneakin' around before she ever stole anything. _

"_One day the giorl was jumped by a group of drunks outside a bar late one night returnin' home. She barely made it outta there, and from that day on she learned that sneakin' wasn't enough. She got hold of an old bowie knife and started to practice with it. She stole some paint and made a target out of a wooden board so she could get better at throwing it. Early in da mornin' the giorl would get up and run just about everywhere in Manhattan, sometimes even in Brooklyn too, getting faster and faster each time and mapping out the city. Pretty soon, she was almost untouchable! She was fast, clever, silent and better than the newsies in Queens with a blade. She had her whole life planned out, but something changed all that. _Someone _changed all that. _

_A few years ago, probably at least four, the giorl was out runnin'. It was a beautiful day outside, the kind that ya don't just spend indoors! Even though it was still early, several people were out on da streets already, including a milkman and another giorl, around the first one's age, carrying a basket of laundry to the cleaners. Normally the giorl would have gone about her own business and continued jogging, but right as she started to pick up the pace a cry rang out. She turned and saw the giorl with the basket on the ground and an out-of-control milk wagon rolling her way. The first new knew what to do. Without thinking, she leapt out into da road and pulled the other giorl outta harm's way just as the wagon tittered by. _

_Breathin' hard, the two got up and began to search for fallen clothes. "Thank you for helping me out there," the other giorl said. "I really appreciate it!" The first one smiled kindly and shrugged. "Youse welcome. Watt's ya name?" The other giorl finished picking up the laundry and helped the first one to her feet. "My name's Sarah," she answered. "Yours?" "Willa, but I don't like dat name," the first giorl replied. Sarah nodded in understanding. "So what _do _I call you then?" Willa thought for a moment. "Since I don't gots an actually name, Willa Isa guesses." Sarah laughed. She shifted the basket under her arm and beckoned Willa forward. "I'm going to the cleaners. I could use the company, if you want to come." Willa considered it for a moment. "Sure," she replied at last. "Give me something to do." _

_After that the two giorl became best friends. A few years later, after she met Jack on strike, Sarah asked him if he could use another newsie. This gave Willa something to actually live for. It quickly became her life, and she put her skills to use in it. Willa is actually still around today. But she goes by a different name. _Wildcat." 

Cat finished her story about the time Spot heard soft snores coming from the younger. He heard her quietly get up and make her way to the door. But at the last second, she bounded over to the window and dive out of it and onto the fire escape beside it, right where Spot was. Before he could react though, he felt a firm hand on his shirt. It pulled him upward and against the railing. Once again, he was face to face with Wildcat again. But this time, he knew he had pushed too far.

**Ok, I've finished!****Thx E.G.** **Winston for reviewing! U 2 **Ealasaid Una! **Winston, this chapter goes to you! – rellimes **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, everyone! Did you like the last chapter? Anyhow, Please R&R! I need it!**

Spot saw Wildcat reach over and pull the window silently shut, not breaking eye contact the entire time. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have hesitated to fight back, but again his limbs refused to work!Wildcat dragged him with her up to the roof top and sat him down on the railing.

"What do you think ya doin' Conlon!" she seethed. "Isa tells ya ta stay outta Manhattan and youse don't do it, and now ya stalking me an' watchin' me from under da window! Spot this has ta stop now!" Wildcat started to pace back and forth in anxiety. "Look, Isa sorry if you think Isa can youse with ya problem, really, I am. But don't you get it? Like Isa said before, my poppin' back up in ya life ain't doing any favors for ya, so go home!" Cat pointed in the direction of Brooklyn and shoved him in that direction. "Get out of Manhattan an' never come back, 'cause if ya do I'll soak youse again like last time, but you won't live ta tell the tale second time around!" With that said the newsgirl backed up and sat down on the bench on top of the roof, indicating that she was going nowhere until he was gone. _If I don't go she'll be goin' ta get Cowboy this time,_ Spot thought. It was now or never. He turned around and faced Wildcat and sat down on the opposite bench and looked at her, indicating that _he _wasn't going to go anywhere either. If he wasn't gonna go anywhere, neither was she. The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute or two. Then Spot spoke up.

"So…. Your name's actually Willa," he said. Surprised at the thought of Spot really paying attention, Wildcat stared at him warily. "Yes," she finally replied. "Why'd ya change it?" Wildcat glared at him, as if she was trying to decide if she should answer his question or not. Finally, she said, "Because my die-hard drunk of a father named me that. Do you know what he would do? He'd go out, have a few drinks, and come back to beat the living daylights out of anyone he saw!" The girl was up and at it now, pacing in a sort of hurried excitement. Spot could tell she hadn't told anyone this before, and now it was spilling out of her so quickly that she was almost afraid to stop, maybe thinking that someone would try to make her. "How would you like it if youse had ta crammed into a 2x4 foot closet with ya mutter until her husband finally got so tired of breakin' everything in sight he fell asleep? I did that almost every night, Conlon! Almost every single night for just about 8 whole years!" she continued. Cat was shaking, she was so furious. Spot shifted around in his seat a bit, eying her dagger at her waist. _What if she decided to take her rage out on me?_ Spot thought.

But just then Wildcat calmed down. She finally realized that she was standing up and sat back down onto the bench, breathing hard. "And then one night he has ta come home early, more drunk than he'd ever been in his life, swingin' a stupid bottle 'o' booze. He 'its Mom wit it, kills 'err an' throws me out, threaten' ta kill me just like he did wit 'err if I don't get outta there. So I scram."

Spot was shocked. All this time he hadn't even thought of what she might have gone through before she reached the newsies. In fact, he never had thought about it before. He'd just assumed that she'd always known how to fight and sell papers. He almost felt _sorry _for her, and the King of Brooklyn never felt sorry for anybody! "I didn't know," he muttered quietly, face at the ground. Wildcat shrugged ruefully. "Well, now youse do," was all she said.

But then the newsgirl toughened back up and stared him straight in the eyes, same old impassive stare as before. She got up, dusted herself off, and pointed again towards the Bridge. "Now go home Spot! I don't need anyone wake up an' find im' up here talkin' at the enemy!" Then, quick as a wink she jumped down the fire escape and was gone. Spot watched her go, and slowly he himself jumped down and took off down the street. But as he left, he felt something leave with him. He stopped and felt all over himself. He still had his cane and the few dimes he still had. So what was he missing?

Then he realized it. IT wasn't anything material; it was something that he actually owned, something that once given away, you can rarely have back.

It was his heart.

_Wait, that can' be right! _Spot's nagger protested. _You've done romanced near every giorl youse seen, an' ya ain't ever given it away! You kidnapped err for Pete's sake! She's 'posed ta be da enemy! So here youse are, followin' her around Manhattan like a sore puppy and watchin' her every move like it done gonna be the last thing ya 'Eva saw! What's da matt which ya Conlon? _Indeed, what was the matter with him? He wasn't supposed to just fall head over heels just like that! And even then, he couldn't do it with the girl from Cowboy's gang, she still under his protection, forget the fact that she hated him! _But she wasn't all the bad once she started to talk, now was she? _A small voice in his ear perked up. The answer was yes, actually. _Wildcat could be quite reasonable, but just because she tells ya why she hates 'err name don't mean she doesn't hate youse! _Spot protested angrily. _She still threw me outta da lodging house, and she still brandished her knife at me like she was about to strike! I can't go back there. She'll kill me just like she said. _

But all the while Spot was trying to reason with himself he let his guard down, allowing someone he really didn't need to sneak up n him.

"Well, if it ain't Spot Conlon," Racetrack's voice rang out behind him. Spot whirled around to face the other boy, cane in handy. He tried to reach for his slingshot, but in his haste he'd forgotten it back in Brooklyn. "So youse taken ta prowlin' da street of Manhattan at night Race. Isn't that like losin' sleep? Boy, won't Cat scold ya for that!" the King taunted. Race smiled wickedly and took a few steps forward. Spot retreated a few steps backward. While it wasn't very royal-like to retreat, especially for Spot, but he knew that the last thing he needed was to get into a fight where Race could easily scream and other Manhattan newsies would come runnin' to his aid. Race shook his head in mock amusement. "Conlon, what can I say, youse a complete idiot!" he said. "Ya honestly think we was gonna leave Cat alone with only da little ones for da rest 'o' da night? With the window open no less? Youse more stupid than we realized!" He let out a heartfelt laugh.

"But seriously, ya violated Cat's saying and stepped back into 'Hattan _to go see her no less! _That ain't wise, Spotty, not smart at all! That's why we gonna switch her place beside da bridge with another newsie, one whose gonna be able ta keep an eye on youse an' your gang ova there an' alert Cowboy if they see any one 'o' youse come on ova!" Race thought for a moment. "Someone like me!" he added proudly. Spot rolled his eyes and continued to back down the street. "So, ya might wanna get back on ova ta da Lodging house, Racetrack," he said slowly, trying to keep his stalker talking. "Cat won't be happy ta find that ya followed me all night."

At that comment Race's face turned a shade of pink, probably red but since it was dark Spot couldn't tell. "Youse got no right ta call Cat that, Conlon!" he snarled. "She doesn't even likes ya! Only 'err _friends _can call her that, not some street rat from Brooklyn who just happens ta take a liken ta her! Otherwise ya call her _Wildcat!_" Spot was shocked at Race's reaction, but only for a moment. He could put the pieces together. He cleared his throat.

"Why does I gotta feelin' that youse ain't just aimin' ta be her _friend _Race," he confronted. "Because I know a brotherly protection instinct, and your tones don't got it." Spot's fists began to clench in anger. Here some newsie was telling _the King of Brooklyn_ what to do! It was unheard of, and completely illegal, at least in Spot's mind. Wildcat was _his, _and no one was going to change that!

Race, meanwhile, was eying Spot with a cross between rage, jealousy and surprise written all over his face. "How- how did youse…. No, Isa….. I'm just her friend, nothin' extra!" he stuttered, probably asking him how in the world Spot knew about his crush on Cat. He hadn't told anyone, he knew that much. Spot grinned in amusement. "Racy, boy, just because Isa from Brooklyn don't mean I don't know a lovesick newsie when Isa sees one." He continued to back up, constantly peering behind him to see if he was anywhere close to the Brooklyn Bridge, where he'd be safe. "But ya too late, Isa already staked me claims on 'err!" Spot reminded Race. "So quit while youse ahead of da game, why don't ya?" Race didn't like Spot's response to that very much, and Spot new it. He slid his hand across his cane lightly. He'd need every inch of it tonight if this little confrontation went south, as Spot knew it would.

"She ain't never gonna go for someone like youse, Conlon!" Race snapped, advancing much too quickly for Spot's taste. "She needs someone on _this side of New York _who'll be there when she needs 'im most, not some loser who'll disappear when another giorl comes waltzin' down da street!"

"Then youse obviously don't know me as well as youse thought, eh Racetrack? Because I don't do just anyone!"

"Oh really?'

"Really!"

"Don't make me laugh, youse go after anyone an' everyone!"

"I do not!"

"You does too!"

This exchange went on for some times, each boy retorting back and forth. They were no longer stepping forward while the other fell back in retreat, no, they were in a full standoff now, complete with circling one another, hurling insults right and left. By now another newsboy had come onto the scene, one who wasn't very happy to see either of them at the present.

"Conlon, race, watta youse think ya doin', out so late at night?" Jack Kelly demanded, trudging up to the two of them and standing between, holding out his hands as to pause the comments. "Race, youse ain't supposed ta be out of da lodgings at night, an' conlon, youse ain't supposed ta being here at all! So what's da big deal? Isa can hears ya all the way down on Main Street!"

Race crossed his arms and Spot stamped his foot in frustration. "C'mon Cowboy!" Race shouted. "We're tryin' ta deciding youse well enough for Cat!" "Yeah Jack!" Spot chimed in. "Let us be! We're battlin' on da field 'o' honor!"

Jack shot both newsies a glare and turned to Race. "Racy, you go on back ta da Lodging House. Me an' Conlon, we gots some unfinished business ta finish up. Ya know, as _leaders _of opposite armies?" He put an emphasis on 'armies', indicating that neither two sides of New York still didn't get along and that race should be already gone. The Manhattan newsie nodded in understanding and took off, shouting back behind him "This ain't ova, Conlon!"

"Yeah, an' youse gonna lose it!" Spot hollered back, straining to see the disappearing boy running down the lane. But jack held his hand up again and motioned for Spot to be quite, so he shut up and let Jack face him. The Manhattan leader started to walk with Spot alongside, as if they were catching up as god friends. "So, Spot. I hear youse an' race ova there got into it tonight. Mind if ya tell me why?" he asked innocently, then he stopped and spat on the King's face "And why ya completely disobeyed Wildcat and still came ova ta 'Hattan!" Then he turned and started to walk again as if nothing ever happened. So, seeing that Jack had this pretty much figured out, Spot filled him in on the details. All the while Jack nodded, listening. At the end, he stopped and sat down on the bench alongside them and pulled out a pipe. "I'm sorry Spot, honestly, I am, but ya don't know the rules that apply here. Rule #1: she's from Manhattan, youse from Brooklyn. Rule #2: She's clearly stated that she don't wanna see ya sorry butt on her turf again, so she'll kill ya if she sees ya around here again. Rule #3: Technically, since she's from Manhattan, Race could've liked her long before a week ago, when youse first met up again, which makes him first come, first serve. Unless she decides she like ya beta dam Race, which doubt she will, youse stuck." He lit up a match and struck it to the pipe, beginning to smoke it. Spot couldn't believe Jack; he actually set down rules around his territory!

_This really sucks, _his nagger said. _You got no chance against Racetrack. Youse might as well forget err' now! _Spot smacked his head. _Shut up and think positive! _He told it. Spot was about to leave when Jack muttered for him to come back. Spot turned around and looked at him. "What? Youse gots some word of encouragement for ya enemy, of all people Cowboy? Because if yaws don't remember, _we stopped bein' friends after the accident!" _ Jack rolled his eyes. "No, Isa gonna try an' give ya a chance at getting' Wildcat, daft's all. But, if youse don't want it, Isa can always give it ta Race." "No no, give it ta me, cowboy, Race don't needed it when he's already with her 24/7!" Jack laughed and invited Spot to sit down next to him on the bench. Spot stood where he was, warily. Jack shrugged at his stubbornness. "Fine be dat way. Isa gonna let youse ta somethin'. We was gonna have Race an' Cat trade places for sellin' spots, mainly 'cause Cat don't want ta see youse I Manhattan Eva again after youse found her yesterday. Youse see the street ta my left?" spot looked and nodded silently. "Daft's da main street youse go on ta reach her new sellin' spot in Central Park. I can't exactly tells ya where she's sellin' cause Wildcat likes ta move around. But bein' King of Brooklyn, youse can handle dat. Right? Once she's in da Park, youse can hardly find her until she comes back to da lodging house. But if youse wanna catch her while she's still in sight youse either gonna have ta stake da Park out or get up early. You gots that?" Spot gave him a thumb up and took off towards Brooklyn, trying to commit those instructions to memory. But he had hardly gone more than 7 feet when a thought hit him.

"Hey cowboy!" he called back out to Jack. "Why youse being so nice an' lettin' me have a go at Cat?" Jack smiled a secretive sort of smile, as if they were sharing a private joke. "Because Isa think youse an' Cat would get along pretty well, given time. Race an' Cat, well, she doesn't like him much. I guess that don't matte ta him or nothing, but I knows we gonna be in a real mess if they Eva got together, which I doubt they will, considerin' she gonna kill da first an' last guy dat ask her out in any way. Race can't fight ta save his left eye, if youse know watt Isa means. Besides, I've been rootin' for youse Eva since youse came back ta apologize ta her a week ago. But just ta be safe, dis conversation Nava happened, OK?"

Spot turned around and began to walk away, saying "Watt conversation, Jacky boy?" Then he took off running. Jack, slightly more content, leaned back in his seat and smoked his pipe.

$N$

**Ok, I'm done. But just for kicks, I wanna know who do you think Cat should end up w/, Spot or Race. I know it's a Spot fic, but I'm also a heartbreaker. I need five votes to move on! **_**(FYI they can be from the same person!) **_**Thx- rellimes **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone, its rel! So I got several votes from several readers, each w/ their own reason for me to pick either Racetrack or Spot as the love interest. After a whole day of considering, the winner is….. Well, ya'll find out soon enough! But anyhow, thank you soooo much for nominating me for the New York newsies Award! That really means a lot to me! So here goes da next chapter!**

Spot didn't return to Brooklyn that night. Instead, he staked out Central Park. If Cat was gonna reach her selling spot on time today, she would have to get through the King first. Settling down on the bench, Spot tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come. _Am Isa doin' da right thing? _He would ask himself. _Should I let her go after all? _But he was already this far out with his plan, plus he had Jack's approval, so he should be all set. Now the only thing standing between him and Wildcat was, well, Wildcat's stubbornness. But he could work past that. Right now he had to be the first one to claim Cat before Race did.

But all he could think about as he lay on the iron bench was what he would say to his gang once he was back in Brooklyn. They hadn't seen him all week, and if they did they knew he was going into Manhattan. What _would _he say? This was going to be tricky. Of course, they wouldn't be too harsh to judge if he'd come back with Wildcat as his, but what if he failed? Then he would have to go back and tell them that she was the one that got away. Then he would be the laughingstock of the town, but it was either that or not returning to Brooklyn at all, which wasn't an option. But coming home without Wildcat wasn't much of an option either. He would just have to wait and see how it all unfolded.

Spot found himself unable to see, but instead counting the chimes of the church bells as they rang midnight, then one, then two, then three and so forth. Finally he counted six o'clock. It was selling time! Right now Spot knew that everyone in the lodging house was up and at it, hustling out the door, picking up their papers and hurrying to their street corners, getting ready to sell. It was Saturday morning, the laziest day of the week, at least in the morning. The townsfolk who worked on Saturdays left early at dawn and didn't get back until late, so if you were gonna sell to them you had to be up early enough or stay out until after supper. Then business was as slow as maple syrup until the 11th hour, when people would finally get up and out of their houses. Selling was good until maybe 5 o'clock, when people started to realize it was later in the day and they should be making dinner. This was good business for shop owners, but to newsies, it was a different story. Too many in a hurry to buy, not enough time, at least in Manhattan.

Realizing that Cat would be up in Central Park soon, Spot quickly got off of his makeshift bed on the bench and ran up a nearby oak tree, where he could see everything for about 100 feet around the main street that Cat was going to be taking to reach her selling point. _Not a bad view from up here, _Spot thought to himself. _Why didn't I come back to Manhattan sooner, I don't know!_ Finally he tore himself away from the sight and focused on the road down below. It was in the nick of time too, because around that time he spotted wildcat dashing through the Park, undoubtedly on her way to the selling point. It was now or never.

Leaping down from the tree Spot started to run after her, catching up but only after she had made him chase her all the way out into the middle of the Park, where the Big Statue was. _I hope she don't go no farther than this, _Spot thought. _Or I won't be able ta find me way back to da main road! _She didn't. Instead, the girl newsie jumped up onto the back of the bench and set her papers down on the seat like she use to do in her old spot. But since there was no one else around, she just waited. Spot slowed down his walk a bit and came up behind her casually, as if interested in buying a paper. "Hello, I would like to buy a newspaper, miss," he said, mocking the sound of a very dignified sounding man. But Cat was no fool to fall for that one. She glanced over her shoulder, rolled her eyes, and turned back away. "Well, come on ova here, Spot, ya might as well sit down." Spot paused reluctantly at her apparent attitude towards an enemy, but came over and sat down on the back of the seat next to her. The two sat in silence for a while before she spoke up. "So, what brings youse ta my neck of the woods?"

Spot was surprised again at Wildcat's calmness instead of anger at his reoccurring disobedience to her wish to have him out of her hair. He was even more surprised at the fact that she'd left her knife at the lodging house today. "Youse don't got youse dagger today," he murmured lamely. She laughed. "Yeah, well ya don't get too many visitors around here until sunset, Race said, so I decided to leave em' behind." She paused for a second. "And I wasn't sure youse was gonna show, much less come up here if ya saw I had em', seeing I threw em' at ya how many times?" She chuckled mirthlessly and Spot let out a laugh himself. But he shut up after Wildcat gave him a questioning look. He shifted in his seat. "What're ya lookin' at, Cat? I'm not allowed ta laugh?"

The newsgirl smiled grudgingly. "Nope…. Well, I guess." The two started to chuckle again. But then Wildcat grew serious. "So what are youse here for dis time, eh Conlon? Isa already told ya Cowboy's gonna have me hide if he sees me talkin' ta youse here." She chuckled again and put her firm hand on his shoulder. Conlon felt like he was about to rise to the moon and back. She was actually didn't hate him anymore. "But seriously, why are ya here?" Spot almost fell off the bench. _She didn't know yet. _So Jack hadn't told her about the fight between him and Racetrack yet. Spot grew angry at the leader of Manhattan, but then remembered that their conversation never was supposed to even have happened.

The King of Brooklyn leaned in close to Wildcat and whispered, "Can youse keep a secret?" Wildcat hopped off the bench and looked at him, startled. "How big is it an' what's da catch?"

"There is no catch."

"C'mon spot, ya always got a catch!"

"Not today, I don't need any favors from youse."

"Conlon, ya better not be lyin' ta me, or youse gonna get it!"

"If I am, youse get soak me even harder than youse did last time." Spot declared. Wildcat's eyes grew large. Then they narrowed. "Alright then, shoot." Spot drew in a large breath. He wasn't supposed to divulge anything about his meeting with jack until later, but this couldn't wait. Cowboy would forgive him. "Race likes ya. A lot," he began. "Well anyone coulda said that!" Wildcat huffed, interrupting him. Spot shot her a frustrated look. "Will ya let me talk, woman?' he exclaimed. Cat raised her eyebrows but said "Go on."

"Da problem is so does I," Spot continued. "An' me an' Race, aft' I left he followed me an' we got into it. Jack had ta break us up an' Race left so me an' Jack got ta talkin' an' he says that he'd rather youse choose a Brooklynite instead of a Manhattan newsie an' he gives me permission ta-" "Hold on, spot, ya givin' me a headache!" Cat interrupted again. "So youse sayin' that you an' Race were fightin' ova _me_ an' jack suddenly decides that he prefers that I be your giorl instead 'o' Race's? Well, he lied Spot. Simple as that!" Spot crossed his arms. "An' what makes youse think dat?" Wildcat laughed harshly. "Because he's right ova here shakin' his head with Race!" She pointed to behind the statue. Spot froze. Wildcat hadn't come here to sell. She came to witness his death. Cowboy and Racetrack stepped out from behind the statue with Spot's rival at his side, glaring at Spot. Race stepped over behind Wildcat to lay his hand on her shoulder. Jack meanwhile was clenching his fists at Spot, which was already tense.

"Youse really thought I would support ya, Spot?" Jack asked. "Youse actually thought I would give away me only giorl newsie ta da _leader 'o' Brooklyn?" _ He laughed. "You thought wrong. Isa lied about Race an' wildcat, Conlon. They gots more in common than they let on!" Spot spat at the ground in anger. "It don't seem like Jack Kelly ta betray a friend like that," he insulted. Jack glared at him. "We stopped bein' friends after the accident with Sarah!" he threw out.

_Suddenly Spot fell into another flashback. This one was more recent, though, a little over a few months ago after the strike. Spot was on the bridge with Jack and Sarah, leaning over the water talking. To this day Spot didn't remember what they had been talking about, or the argument that followed. But what he did remember was Jack punching Spot punching Jack back and Sarah trying to step between them to make them stop. But spot had made the worse mistake of his life and shoved her out of the way so he could get another clear shot at cowboy. He had pushed a little too hard, and before they all knew it Sarah was hanging over the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge with her boyfriend and his other friend in a duel. The actual Spot tried to move, to stop the fighting when he realized he could move. Then he saw his old self get knocked to the ground right as Sarah lost her grip on the beam that was her lifeline. She would've been dead if Jack hadn't reached her in time. It took the better part of the 10 minutes the former Spot had been out cold to get Sarah back up onto firmer ground. Actual Spot watched helplessly as Jack kicked his old self in the ribs and marched off angrily. It had been his fault Sarah had almost fallen to her death, and now Conlon knew that jack had held that grudge for all this time. _

Then Spot woke up back into reality. Jack was still upset at Spot and had used his feelings for Wildcat to get back at him. "Ya still mad at me about that?' he whispered quietly. Jack nodded furiously. "Because it was an accident!" Spot continued. "I said Isa was sorry!" "Sorry ain't gonna cut it here in Manhattan, Conlon!"Jack screamed back. "You almost cost Sarah her life! If she had died, I would've died too! I almost lost one of the only people I love, Spot!" Cowboy's face was white with rage now. "An' now you how it feels!" The King took a step back. His gaze fell on Wildcat, her brown hair falling from her cap so beautifully. He felt enraptured, but then he saw that her eyes weren't on him. They were on Race, the man with his arms wrapped around her. It should've been him in that position, not a cheap gambler like Race. Spot felt a surge of hatred pulsing through his body, wanting to rip Race to shreds for stealing hi girl from him. But it subsided with wildcat looking his way. They stared at each other for a long time, and then she said, "I'm sorry, Spot. You just got here too late." Then Race gazed at Race again. He pulled her close and kissed her. Hard.

Spot wanted to kill him again. But Jack stepped in and raised his hands out in front of him. "Get outta here, Conlon,' he snarled. "Youse don't belong here, with Wildcat or not. Go back ta Brooklyn, find yourself someone in your town _and leave mine alone!" _To move his point, he pointed at the way back towards the main road. Spot took one look at Jack and decided he had over stayed his welcome. He took off running for his life towards the Bridge before Jack could tell him twice. But as he stopped half-way and cast one lat wayward look at Wildcat. She would never know. He watched her kiss Race, he watch as they got up and left for the newsies lodge again, leaving all of the newspapers behind.

_She never loved you, much less liked you before _his nagger said. _Her friendliness was all an act. You better get back to Brooklyn and forget all about her, Spot, before they realize youse were gone. _For once Spot listened to his nagger and ran away from Manhattan and the woman he could never have.

**So, how was the finale? If anyone wants a sequel, feel free to ask, I'm already planning one in my mind! But I need reviews to put it into action, so tap that little blue button on the bottom of this page and say **_**something! **_** I had so many reviewers saying they thought should get the girl in the end and spot got her way too much, and I for one agree! There are little to no Racetrack fics on , so I might as well put one up there. Again, Thxs 4 the Award nomination and c u later! – Rellimmes **


	5. Notice

**Notice:**

**After much weeping and gashing of teeth I've finally decided to post a preview video on YouTube, ****the link's on my profile page.**

**Thank you for all your support during this project. Pushed Too Far was my first ever newsies fic, and for a while I wasn't sure if anyone was going to like it. Now I've got **

**17 reviews**

**10 favorites **

**6 follows**

**And who knows how many favorites, alerts and follows for author (aka me!)**

**Once again, I praise all of you who continued to love me and my work, and to all who prayed for a sequel you can check out my profile page- you'll see it, it's called One Man's Treasure. God Bless!**

_**-Rellimmes**_


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